


What's In a Name?

by itjustwontquit



Category: Bat Out Of Hell: The Musical - Steinman
Genre: F/M, Gen, Halloween, Masked ball, The Deep End, names are important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22452889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itjustwontquit/pseuds/itjustwontquit
Summary: Down in the Deep End, there is a girl. The girl has no name. No name, no past worth remembering, no future worth dreaming of. She has only the clothes on her back, and a glint in her eye that suggests that she has not yet given up. And all around her are lost souls.
Relationships: Blake/Valkyrie (Bat Out Of Hell Musical)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	What's In a Name?

All names come from somewhere. Sometimes they come from mighty deeds, sometimes from foolish ones. A name is a blessing. It says,  _ this is who you are, this is what I give to you _ . A name is a curse. It says,  _ you cannot outrun me, I will always be with you _ .

Down in the Deep End (and now there’s a name; one which speaks of secrets, of a life below the surface, out of reach of the world) there is music. Down in the Deep End there is music and dancing and life. Here is a place where you can come to escape, where you can rest, sheltered from the chaos of the world outside, with its riots and its daily headlines shouting some new outrage or disaster. 

Down in the Deep End, there is a girl. The girl has no name. No name, no past worth remembering, no future worth dreaming of. She has only the clothes on her back, and a glint in her eye that suggests that she has not yet given up. And all around her are lost souls.

She knows who these people are. They are frozen,  _ mutants _ ,  _ freaks  _ and _ monsters–unnatural _ . They are like her, abandoned by a world which was supposed to love them, but which punished them for even existing. It wasn't their fault–no one knew what had caused the changes, whether it was the chemicals in the air and water, or whether it would have happened regardless of the riots ripping society apart–but they were still punished for it. Friends lost trust, families grew fearful, and the world watched on.

Most of them ran. That's what she did. Ran from her childhood, from the authorities; ran from grasping shadows and fears made flesh.

She ran, just like everyone else. And like them, she ended up here. Underneath its veneer of dirty glamour, this place is a refuge; a maze of tunnels and secret rooms where a lost child can hide. And although they mask it well–they are young and beautiful, and they walk the filthy floors with the confidence of royals–everyone here is hiding from something.

She’s been here every night for the past week. By day she can keep to the streets–it’s safer than the alternative–but by night the streets are the worst place she can be. So she comes here. Every day as night falls, she makes her way down through the abandoned subway tunnels to this place where the outside world feels like a nightmare that has already passed. When she is in the Deep End, she comes alive; here she is nameless, a fleeting face like so many around her.

There are familiar faces too, in this place where you can be whoever you wish to be: a boy with blonde hair which falls in riotous curls around his face, most often seen without a shirt and in the middle of some unknowable escapade; and with him the crowd of friends he seems to gather effortlessly around him, all creatures of this underworld they inhabit, seemingly at ease in the darkness. They are not alone, they have created a family in the shadows. She envies them, longing for their beauty, their confidence, for the companionship they have found.

Tonight is Halloween, and a masquerade ball in full swing. She has moved from the solitude of the streets to the chaos that results from anonymity–anonymity helped by the mask which was provided as she arrived. It is an anonymity that fills her with a strange confidence, an intoxicating feeling that allows her to throw herself into the mix of bodies, a splash of pink in a sea of colour, to step outside of her past and to choose who she wants to be.

As the evening fades into night, and the night fades into dawn, the girl falls into conversation with a boy whose eyes sparkle with untold jokes behind the dark blue mask he's wearing. They talk about anything, but not quite everything; even in this half-twilight world where connections are made in an instant that feel as though they will last a lifetime in a single night–even here, it is better to be without a past than to bring that darkness into such a place of refuge. As the conversation goes on– _ and of course he did it _ – _ oh is that what that crashing was _ – _ to be fair we weren't expecting it to explode like that _ – _ oh have I told you yet about the time _ –they push up their masks, revelling in the feeling of air on their faces.

"It occurs to me," and his voice is lilting and, now that they are face to face with no barriers between them, oddly formal.

"It occurs to me that I have kept you to myself for at least the past hour and I have no idea what your name is."

She freezes; she had not been expecting this. Her name is a part of a past she tries not to think of, but for a moment it feels as though she will have no choice. 

“Val–"

She pauses. That name, she thinks, is from another time, another life. This is her chance to be someone new. The boy with the devil dancing in his eyes looks at her expectantly.

“Valkyrie,” she is filled with a sudden resolve. She can be whoever she wants to be.

“My name is Valkyrie.”

He reaches out and pulls her mask back over her face. Her breath catches in her throat; his hands are cool against her skin and in the crowded room it creates an almost unbearable intimacy.

"I'm Blake."

And, pulling his own mask back on, he takes her hand and pulls her back into the crowd.

***

Years pass. Years pass, friends are made, friends are lost, wounds heal. Over the years she’s given more names (notable amongst them being “that bitch” and “best friend” and “partner in crime”), and each one she wears as a badge of honour. Her names are a part of her; they are her past and her future, gifts from the family she had chosen.


End file.
